


you live in this, and dwell in lovers' eyes

by orphan_account



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: :O, M/M, willy shakes shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-02
Updated: 2015-05-02
Packaged: 2018-03-26 17:39:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3859087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometime around 3 am, Ronan recites some poetry for Noah. For those moments, in the dark of the night, where everything seems vulnerable, some words of immortality and invincibility don't go amiss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you live in this, and dwell in lovers' eyes

**Author's Note:**

> im actually pretty happy with this... hashtag Nice. Sonnet recited is sonnet 18, possibly the most cliched one i could have used, and the title is the last line from sonnet 55. hope u enjoyed reading :^)
> 
> this 1 goes out to mara who read this beforehand and then screamed at me for it... :')

2:34 am. Ronan is awake.

He doesn't know why he’s awake, or why he can’t fall back asleep, but there’s one thing he sure knows.

It’s dark, and he’s tired, and he’s alone.

He considers all the things he has to do tomorrow. He’d promised Gansey he would go to school. He had to do the shopping after that. Then, he had a vague memory of a crumpled party invite that had been thrown at him a few days ago. Overall, he’s so. Fucked.

And so he lies there, as the minutes go by, as the clock ticks towards, and then past, 3 am.

At exactly 3:02, somebody walks into his room.

“Hey.” Noah says, sitting down on the side of Ronan's bed. He barely makes a dent in the messily made sheets. Ronan wishes he hadn't noticed it, and busies himself with pulling himself up to lean against the wall.

“What are you doing? It’s 3 am.” He states. Noah shrugs.

“You know I could ask you the same thing.” He replies, shuffling closer towards Ronan. Ronan doesn't respond, instead staring into the darkness in front of him. Noah sighs, leaning back against the wall as well, bringing himself level with Ronan.

“Ronan, recite something for me. Something from the olden days.” Noah says, the words so much more present than Noah is. Ronan pretends he doesn't notice how the space Noah occupies feels so much darker than the unilluminated room stretching ahead of him.

“The olden days? The days of King Glendower?” He asks the empty space in front of him, scared to turn and ask the almost empty space beside him. Noah shakes his head with a slight smile.

“I was thinking more Shakespeare.”

Ronan grimaces. Noah is the only one who knows about his thing with Shakespeare, having once caught him reciting sonnet 116 to Chainsaw. They had never spoken about it again, until now. He almost wants to decline, to tell Noah again that it was a one-time thing, that he doesn't care about the smooth words of passion that feel like silk slipping from his lips.

Instead, he breathes out slowly, and starts talking.

“Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?”

His voice is low, raspy, and he feels like he hasn't spoken a word for days, not until this moment.

“Thou art more lovely and more temperate;”

In his peripheral vision, he sees Noah’s eyes lighten.

“Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,  
and summer’s lease hath all too short a date;”

He pauses, and in the back of his mind, he wonders why it’s so hard to say these words to Noah, even though they still feel like they’re flowing off his tongue.

“Sometimes too hot the eye of heaven shines,  
and often is his gold complexion dimm'd;  
And every fair from fair sometime declines,  
by chance, or nature’s changing course, untrimm'd.”

Ronan is getting into the flow now, and Noah starts nodding along to his words, a light smile on his face.

“But thy eternal summer shall not fade  
nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st.  
Nor shall death brag thou wander’st in his shade,  
when in eternal lines to time thou grow’st.”

His gaze, which he tries hardest to fix in front of him, wanders to a halt on Noah.

“So as long as men can breathe  
or eyes can see.”

His breath catches in his throat, and he has to pause before finishing.

“So long lives this  
and this gives life to thee.”

He stumbles over the word life, choking under the weight of a ghost’s stare. Noah smiles at him, a sad, wistful smile that causes Ronan to lean forward, towards Noah, until their noses almost touch.

“A sonnet about immortality, huh?” Noah whispers. Ronan nods, his throat dry.

He wants to press further forward, until his lips meet Noah’s, but he doesn't. Instead, he just stares at the boy, at the ghost, at Noah. He doesn't realize he’s holding his breath, waiting for something that never comes.

Maybe he’d convinced himself that Noah was going to flicker into nothingness, but he doesn't. Noah remains, and he remains even as Ronan pulls away from Noah.

Ronan doesn't know why he pulled back, because as soon as he does, he’s moving forward again, kissing Noah gently.

Noah doesn't reciprocate much, and the kiss feels too gentle, too fleeting to Ronan. He is almost scared that Noah is just like that, gentle and fleeting, but Noah isn't.

Ronan knows because he smiles that sad smile again, and intertwines his fingers with Ronan's, and Ronan feels compelled to whisper promises that he can’t keep.

“I won’t let you go. As long as I’m here, you have to be too.”

And so, later, at 3:37 am, in the suffocating darkness of the night, Ronan finally falls asleep, with Noah watching vigil over him.

Because even though Ronan swears to keep Noah real, it’s still Noah who’s watching over Ronan in the end.

 


End file.
